Warning: There's foul language and violence in this story. I'll be rating this PG-13, or so.
I hope you enjoy this story. Please read and review. Many thanks go to my ever-patient beta Rinne.
Chapter Two
The first thing Tony noticed as he drifted back to awareness was the fire in his stomach. Funny, he hadn't remembered having time to stop for burritos. He really had to stop eating those, as much as he hated to admit it, his stomach couldn't handle them like they used to. Shifting slightly he realized his hands were behind his back, and they were cuffed. How the hell did that happen?
Opening his eyes he saw he was lying on the floor of the bank, his hands and legs restrained, and some guy was pacing up and down, waving an automatic rifle and swearing at his companions.
"We are so fucked! I can't believe we're so fucked!" Ryan Soldero was furious. Reeling around, he pointed accusingly at the guy behind the counter. "You were supposed to stop them from hitting the alarm. What the hell happened?"
Joey Michaels yelled back, "The kid was too fast, he hit the button before I had a chance to clear the counter."
Facing the female member of their group, Soldero continued yelling, "And you, you shot a cop? A COP? You know what happens when you shoot a cop? Every single cop in the country keeps an eye out for you. We're dead!"
"What was I supposed to do?" argued Angela Harper. "He was reaching for his gun. He's not dead, we can use him for leverage. And he's not a cop, he's some sort of agent"
Soldero's voice went up an octave. "You shot a Fed? Are you crazy?" He continued pacing, waving his weapon and running his free hand through his hair. "We're so totally fucked."
A voice boomed through a megaphone from outside the building. "This is the Metro Police Department. You're completely surrounded. Come out of the building with your hands up."
"Ryan?" The fourth member of the group was a wiry blonde, not more than eighteen years old. He was unable to stay still, his movements jerky as he bounced on his heels. Wiping his nose nervously on his sleeve, he looked to his leader for instructions.
"Shut up Petey," muttered Ryan. "Just shut up. Frank, make sure the hostages keep their heads down." He moved closer to the window and yelled back. "We got hostages in here. And a wounded Fed. You don't give us what we want, we start throwing dead bodies out the door."
Gibbs swore when he heard about the wounded agent. It had to be DiNozzo, it would be too much of a coincidence for there to be another Federal Agent in there, and Gibbs didn't believe in coincidences.
Detective Harding shook his head, looking over at Gibbs. "I don't like this. This guy sounds like a frightened kid."
Gibbs nodded grimly. "A frightened kid with automatic weapons and hostages."
Putting the megaphone back to his mouth, Harding yelled back at the bank robbers. "I'm going to call you through the bank's number. Pick up, and we can talk about this, okay?"
"Okay."
McGee had returned with Abby and a truckload of electronic equipment. They were led over to where the Police Department had patched into the security camera system. Working quickly and efficiently, the monitors were soon filled with different views of the interior of the bank.
Gibbs and Harding strode up to the command center to survey the position of the bank robbers and the hostages. The pictures were a bit grainy, but it was easy to make out the people. One robber was behind the counters, the tellers lying on the floor. One teller wasn't with the group, and it looked like there was blood on the front of his uniform. In the main area of the bank a group of customers were huddled on the floor, covered by two men with automatic weapons. A fourth man, armed with an automatic weapon, was pacing back and forth, while an apparently unarmed woman was talking to him
Scanning the other monitors, Gibbs caught sight of his fallen agent. Tony was lying on his back, his arms behind him, his legs apparently tied together. The front of his white shirt was dark with blood. Gibbs heard Abby gasp, indicating she had spotted her friend as well.
"Oh god, Gibbs. It's Tony," she whispered hoarsely. "He looks dead." Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her pale cheeks.
"He's tied up, Abs," replied Gibbs. "They wouldn't tie up a dead man." He hoped he was right. He couldn't be sure about anything this group would do. They appeared to be amateurs- heavily armed, frightened amateurs.
Detective Harding picked up a phone and dialed a number.
Negotiations were starting.
McGee and Ziva approached Gibbs, anxious to do something to help their injured teammate.
"Gibbs." Ziva looked serious. "Why don't I find a way into the building, get a person on the inside with a gun, then the police can send in their smack team."
McGee looked at Ziva. "That's SWAT team."
"Tony could be dying," growled Ziva. "Now is not the time to correct my American slang."
"It's not slang, it's the acronym for Special Weapons and…"
"McGee," barked Gibbs.
"Sorry, Boss."
"We can't do that, Officer David." Gibbs looked toward the bank thoughtfully. "There are too many innocent people in there that could get caught in the crossfire. We can't risk it."
"But Gibbs…" Gibbs cut off her argument with a glare.
"We can't risk the civilians."
Abby, who had been standing by quietly, spoke up, "What about Tony, Gibbs? He's lying there, alone, bleeding and probably in a lot of pain. We have to get him out of there. We can't just let him die."
Gibbs put his arms around her. "Tony's not going to die, Abs. We'll get him, I promise."
"How?" Ziva looked skeptical.
"We'll get him."